


All in the Details

by hader_ade



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: AU, Eddie is an art student, M/M, Richie is his model, They're adults, We love a repressed gay, dont sue me, i say boy a lot but they're legal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-17
Updated: 2019-11-19
Packaged: 2020-12-20 23:36:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21065066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hader_ade/pseuds/hader_ade
Summary: Eddie Kaspbrak is a details man; that’s probably why he spent so much time doing what he called “doodling”. Yet his skill with a pencil warranted more than the humble usage of the word “doodling”- Eddie Kaspbrak is an artist. A really good artist his friends would say, and they did. Stanley would often come to him, once or twice a week, and present him with a photograph of “this really beautiful bird I saw up at the park this morning” and “could you paint this one for me?” And Eddie would. He liked the calmness that creating brought him, it distracted him from the anxiety that he felt on a near-constant basis. There was something about catching that little glint in an eye or perfectly encapsulating an emotion in the scrunch of eyebrows or the lift at the corner of his subject’s mouth that drove him to the community center every Tuesday and Thursday for his visual arts class. Most evenings the instructor brought in dynamic objects for him and the other students to sketch and Eddie would spend the next two hours perfecting every dabble of light, every casted shadow, and dimple, bump and bruise until he felt like he had done a sufficient enough job. Eddie is a details man.





	1. Stone Fruit

**Author's Note:**

> I 've never written an AU before so your feedback is appreciated. I just need these boys to fall in love in every shape and way possible. Enjoy.

Eddie Kaspbrak is a details man; that’s probably why he spent so much time doing what he called “doodling”. Yet his skill with a pencil warranted more than the humble usage of the word “doodling”- Eddie Kaspbrak is an artist. A really good artist his friends would say, and they did. Stanley would often come to him, once or twice a week, and present him with a photograph of “this really beautiful bird I saw up at the park this morning” and “could you paint this one for me?” And Eddie would. He liked the calmness that creating brought him, it distracted him from the anxiety that he felt on a near-constant basis. There was something about catching that little glint in an eye or perfectly encapsulating an emotion in the scrunch of eyebrows or the lift at the corner of his subject’s mouth that drove him to the community center every Tuesday and Thursday for his visual arts class. Most evenings the instructor brought in dynamic objects for him and the other students to sketch and Eddie would spend the next two hours perfecting every dabble of light, every casted shadow, and dimple, bump and bruise until he felt like he had done a sufficient enough job. Eddie is a details man.

-

At 6:45 pm, sharp, Eddie walked into the community center’s small, but comfortable, studio where twice a week he attended Mr. Dornan’s visual arts class. On the off-days, this studio hosted yoga classes and luncheons for the elderly home down the block. Eddie scrunched his nose up at the smell in the studio.  _ Obviously, there was a yoga class this afternoon _ , he thought, rubbing his nose on his sleeve as if that would take away the faint tinge of sweaty feet that still clung in the air. He approached his usual easel, third from the right, in the front row- at this distance, he could better see the subject, could better pick apart and recreate whatever fun, new thing Mr. Dornan would bring in tonight. Other students began filing in, he was, by far, the youngest pupil Mr. Dornan had this season and the best. Everyone else was a casual artist, not caring too much about how their piece turned out, but just grateful to get away from the hustle and bustle of everyday life for a few hours. Eddie was not like them. After class three months ago, Eddie approached Mr. Dornan with his portfolio, comprised of everything he had created in the weeks he had spent in the first row of that studio and everything he created outside of it. The portfolio, in short, was enormous.

“God, Eddie, how many pieces are in here?” Mr. Dornan asked with a small sense of wonder in his voice as he carefully considered every sketch and painting Eddie had brought along.

“Jeez, maybe a hundred? Not everything, though, just since this past January.”

“Edward.” Mr. Dornan said more seriously this time.

“Yes?”

“It’s March,” this time Mr. Dornan let out a small smile and Eddie let out the breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

“Yeah, I don’t know. I just like drawing stuff.”

“This is really good Eddie, have you considered seriously pursuing this?”

Eddie lightly scuffed the floor with his sneakers and shoved his hands in his overalls, “I was thinking about it, yeah.” 

His instructor nodded, slowly and solemnly, “Well, I’d be happy to put in a recommendation with my friend at the college downtown if this is something you’re serious about. And Eddie? You should be serious about this.”

This is exactly what Eddie wanted to hear from him, “Yes! Please! That- that would be, god, that would be great.”

“Consider it done,” Mr. Dornan smiled as he carefully tucked away Eddie’s works.

Eddie chuckled at the memory- it was June now and by this upcoming Fall he would be enrolled in the local college’s art program, already having secured a job at the library on the small campus. He leaned out of his stool and grabbed his sketchpad, pencils, and gummy erasers- laying them out neatly along the lip of the easel and tucking the 4H behind his ear. His foot jiggled against the stool in anticipation, eyes darting from his watch to his blank page. The expanse of white in front of him made his heart beat harder in his chest.  _ I hope Mr. Dornan brings in something good today _ , he thought. Swaths of fabric swaying ever so slightly at the hand of the oscillating fan in the back of the studio, a bowl of stone fruits with fuzzy skin, Eddie dreamt of the possibilities until Mr. Dornan briskly walked through the door. His eyes snapped up as his instructor began detailing the assignment for the evening.

“I am sure you all remember last month when Miss Marsh joined our class.” 

Eddie’s nose turned up. He remembers alright- Beverly was a beautiful young woman, there was no doubt. When she modeled for the class three weeks ago, Eddie was excited. He never got the opportunity to draw real-life people- Stanley had refused to strip down to his underwear for Eddie, which was understandable, albeit annoying. Beverly had a wonderful spattering of freckles across her face that Eddie found himself drawn to, but when Mr. Dornan looked over his work at the end of class he told him how disappointed he was that Eddie had not even  _ attempted  _ to convey the poses Miss Marsh had been in for those two hours. His work was impressive, that much was sure, but lacked a sense of completion he had said. Eddie hadn’t even thought about sketching Beverly’s body, there was no appeal in the smoothness of her stomach, the gentle rise of her chest, and definitely no appeal in what lie between her crossed legs. He felt genuinely confused and more than a little anxious- why wasn’t Beverly’s body appealing to him? And so that anxiety festered. He felt that anxiety bubbling up again, he did not want “Miss Marsh” to slip out of her modesty robe and perch herself in front of him this evening, or any other evening for that matter.  _ Why couldn’t it have been a bowl of stone fruit? Some nice peaches? An avocado even?  _

“Well this evening is a rather,” Mr. Dornan searched for the word, “ _ special _ evening. As we have a new model tonight. Everyone please thank Mr. Tozier for joining us this evening.”

If Eddie thought he was anxious before, he didn’t even know what to name this new emotion. A flush rose from his collarbones to his hairline, burning the tops of his ears.  _ A man?  _ It’s one thing to ask your roommate, and long-time friend, to get down to his skivvies; even that one time he had asked Stan, he felt a twinge of shame as he did it. He didn’t know why he had felt shame instead of nervousness or apprehension, but he had. And he shoved that feeling deep down and they agreed to not broach the topic again. Eddie couldn’t do that here, though- there was no slinking away, he was in the first row and Mr. Dornan would notice if he walked out. Eddie was very much trapped.

There was soft clapping all around Eddie as his classmates offered their acknowledgment to the young man that passed through the doorframe. He pumped his arms in the air, not unlike a cage-fighter and made the soft “ahh” sound that crowds would at such an event. Richie Tozier was a lanky young man, just under six foot, and Eddie could see that just beneath the deep blue robe he was wearing that there was some definition to his muscles. 

“Woah, thanks Mr. D, always appreciate you giving it to me,” Richie said confidently and with a suggestive wink. Mr. Dornan couldn’t have rolled his eyes harder if he had tried.

“Mr. Tozier here is an English student and is on borrow from the creative writing class here at the community center. He expressed an interest in modeling for you all tonight. Now Mr. Tozier-”

“Richie.”

“Mr. Tozier. If you wouldn’t mind disrobing and having a seat in front of the class. Please pick a single position- make sure that you are comfortable as we ask that you not move for the next thirty minutes or so.”

“Not even a prob, Bob!” Richie dropped his robe and was left in a short pair of briefs that accentuated the curve in the small of his back and his-

Eddie gulped. He wasn’t- isn’t- prepared at all to see what it is that this Richie Tozier will come up with and he sure as hell isn’t prepared to  _ draw  _ it. Still, he pulled the pencil from behind his ear and waited for Richie Tozier to get in position.

Richie all but clambered into the chair in the front of the studio, grabbing it by its arms and hopping in it to readjust the direction it was facing. Eddie watched with what he hopes is a neutral expression as he watched in horror that the half-naked man in front of him was turning to meet his eyes. Richie spread his legs wide in front of him and dropped his elbows to his thighs, and his fists to rest on his cheeks, pushing his lips into a pout. He grinned at Eddie who was hiding behind his easel, “Ready Mr. D! Let’s get to sketching!” Mr. Dornan sighed and started a timer for thirty minutes, “Class please begin.”

Eddie peeked from around his sketchbook and met the impossibly dark eyes of his subject, he drew in a sharp inhale as he drank in the features of the young man in front of him. His cheeks were slightly gaunt, exposing his bone structure and casting light shadows in the grooves of his face. There was a mass of freckles dotting across his cheeks with a few rogue ones dancing around his lips.  _ His lips _ . Eddie’s tongue darted out of his mouth to moisten his lips, he didn’t remember them feeling this dry before- the air itself seemed a little thinner than it had been only fifteen minutes before.  _ His lips _ . He had never seen a mouth like that before, so full and pink, and he felt a strange urge to reach out beyond his sketchbook and trace the shape with his finger. Instead, he reached into his back pocket for his aspirator and took a deep gulp to loosen the vice-like grip he felt his lungs were in.  _ He’s beautiful _ . Richie grinned deeply and Eddie could have sworn that he was reading his mind. 

“Mr. Tozier! We ask, please, that you do not move for the duration of this pose. Thank you.”

Richie settled for a quick wink at Eddie and relaxed his face once more. Eddie felt his heart quicken and his hand trembled as pencil met paper. Their eyes joined again.

  
  


He is  _ not _ a fucking stone fruit.

  
  



	2. French Girls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie had never been so red, he was sure of it. Not even the one time his overbearing mother walked in on him in a compromising situation, but that was a thought for another time. Not when this Richie character was laying himself out for hi- for the entire class. To draw him because that is what he was there for, to be drawn and nothing else. Eddie shook his head, this model was attractive, that was for sure, but he was there for a reason and damn it if Eddie was going to pass this up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all I am literally so sorry for this to have taken so long. It's been a hard month and I must've started like three new pieces before I got the courage to start this one up again. I am trying to be better about it. Love you.

Richie jumped as the timer had gone off, signaling for him to move to his second position. He took a glance at the young man in the first row and smiled to himself- he was handsome, that enough was certain.  _ Cute, cute, cute _ , his mother would say. He stretched out his back and he took a look around the room- he had an idea for his next pose, but for that, he would need a table. Richie snuck another quick look over to the boy working diligently on his piece, the tip of his tongue was stuck firmly in between his lips and his eyebrows furrowed in concentration. He strode to the other side of the room towards a small folded table, muttering pardon me’s and excuse me’s to Mr. Dornan as he shuffled around him dragging the table back in front of the class. The soft screech of the table being slowly pulled drew some giggles from the elderly women in the back of the room, but a quick peek over to the boy again lent a very different view. He was puzzled but when their eyes met the tips of his ears burned and he ducked behind his easel again. But Richie could see a small smile pulling at the edge of his mouth and it was enough to get him to haul his scrawny ass up on the table. He stretched out as much as he could, but damn the table was smaller than he thought. He rested his head on my propped fist and shot a dazzling smile at the class.

“Draw me like one of your French girls.”

That drew even more chuckles from the ladies in the back and even a small laugh from Mr. Dornan himself who quickly coughed to cover up his amusement. Richie couldn’t make eye contact with the cutie in the front though, he refused to meet his eyes- he worried he crossed an invisible boundary but shook it off- he didn’t even  _ know _ this guy, why should it matter? 

-

Eddie had never been so red, he was sure of it. Not even the one time his overbearing mother walked in on him in a compromising situation, but that was a thought for another time. Not when this Richie character was laying himself out for hi-  _ for the entire class. To draw him because that is what he was there for, to be drawn and nothing else.  _ Eddie shook his head, this model was attractive, that was for sure, but he was there for a reason and damn it if Eddie was going to pass this up. With pencil to paper, he began the rough outline of the man that laid in front of him, trying as best he could to avoid the more  _ intimate _ parts. After a while, he was able to focus less on Richie as a whole and more in the way the muscles in his arms worked to support his head and the soft tendrils of hair that framed his face and fell around his eyes. There was a sparkle in his eyes that Eddie wanted so desperately to capture. When the timer went off for the second time, Eddie let out a sharp huff- he still hadn’t managed to encapsulate that mystery and humor in the eyes. He could see it, plain as day, but for whatever reason this- this  _ boy _ was the hardest thing he had ever drawn before. He grumbled quietly to himself as Richie posed for the third time, but he was too busy carefully dotting each freckle that dusted over his face to notice. Eddie looked up as he flipped a page in his sketchbook, having already filled five pages of body studies and detailed eyes and parted lips that belonged to the man in front of him. He was leaning back against the table now, hands planted firmly on either side of him and a curious expression on his face- his eyes that were so captivating only minutes ago had glazed. He didn’t know this but Richie was trying to figure out what was so special about him, why he seemed so drawn to him. He wondered what Eddie’s laugh sounded like, what shape his mouth would make when he said Richie’s name, and- most prominently- what his lips would taste like.

The pose was simple enough and Eddie had already completed a rudimentary sketch of his shape, gangly limbs and all, in the next five minutes. When he came back out from behind his paper, the far-away look had left Richie’s face and he was looking at him,  _ into _ him almost. Eddie could feel his breath hitch in his throat, the dull thumping of his heart boomed loudly in his head, and he couldn’t seem to pull his eyes away from his face. When Richie finally broke eye contact, Eddie felt himself exhale- not even realizing he had been holding his breath the whole time. With his newfound freedom, he let his eyes roam the length of Richie’s body, the spattering of freckles on his nose complemented the stray ones on his chest and shoulders; his chest was broad and a light flush dusted across it; his fingers were long and Eddie could just make out the callouses that lived there; the hair that encroached his legs and thighs seemed downy and Eddie felt the urge to reach out and feel for himself. As his eyes made the journey back to Richie’s face having drunk in everything his body had to offer-  _ well not everything _ , he thought to himself- he felt a semblance of shame at his gawking. Beverly Marsh came into his mind at that moment and that shame grew- he didn’t spend nearly as much time trying to memorize her features when she was here, not nearly as much time blushing and staring. He didn’t feel a warmth to her like he did with this new stranger. 

Eddie heard the screech of a chair across linoleum and realized it was coming from him, he was stood up, face red, and marched out of the studio. The soft whoosh of the bathroom door and gush of water spewing from the faucet in front of him broke his trance. He grabbed at the edge of the sink, knuckles turning white, and took a long look at himself in the mirror.  _ Would it be such a bad thing if I find him attractive? I mean- it wouldn’t be the end of the world, right? _ Eddie thought to himself, but he can’t have a fucking crisis right now. Mr. Dornan was sure to be wondering why he ran out of class and he left his bag behind so he couldn’t just go home and make up some elaborate lie about a stomach bug to tell his instructor later. Eddie would have to walk back to his chair in the first row and suck it up for another half hour, 45 minutes at most. That was doable, he could do that, right? He splashed some water on his face and took one last look in the mirror before making the walk back to the studio.

As his fingers slipped around the door handle, he took one last deep breath before walking in. His plan had been to avoid making eye contact with Richie as he made his way back to his seat, but Richie had caught his gaze the moment he stepped over the threshold. There was a softness to his face, almost a look of concern; Eddie set his mouth into a hard line and gave the boy a curt nod as he sat down. His hands were trembling slightly as he picked up his pencil and resolved to not look back up until the class was over. He spent the last of the lesson busying himself with studies of the slope of Richie’s nose and the depth in his eyes, the way his teeth peeked through his lips. All from memory because the last thing he wanted to do was look back at the boy that made him squirm in his seat. The time was over before he realized it, Mr. Dornan’s collected voice made Eddie’s head snap at attention.

“That’s all for today, class, please thank Mr. Tozier again for indulging us this evening.” 

The room filled with soft claps, but Eddie hurried in shoving his belongings back in his bag- with a short wave to his instructor, he trudged out of the room- ignoring Richie completely. He made it to his car in the back of the lot as he heard the soft pats of shoes behind him.

“Hey! Wait up!” The voice sent a shiver up Eddie’s spine and sent the hairs on the back of his neck up.  _ Fuck. Fuck. This wasn’t happening.  _ He dug around in his coat pockets for his keys to no avail and dropped to his knees to search through his backpack. The crunch of gravel was getting closer and he knew he was going to have to make some polite small talk with this Richie person but  _ god _ did he want to avoid that. He braced his shoulders back and turned to meet the boy sauntering over to him. He was back in his robe and Eddie wondered for a moment why he hadn’t changed. 

“Yeah?” Trying as casually as possible to slip his hand in his back pocket, Eddie grabbed at his aspirator like it was a life-line.

“I just wanted to introduce myself properly, my name is Richard Tozier,” he said in the worst British accent Eddie had ever heard in his life- and he was around when Stan got a little too obsessed with Doctor Who in the eighth grade. He scrunched his nose up and realized that Richie’s hand was stuck out in front of him, waiting for Eddie to take it.

“Eddie,” he said, perhaps too softly, as he took the other’s hand, “Kaspbrak.”

“It is  _ wonderful _ to meet you if I do say so myself, Eds.”

“Don’t call me that,” Eddie wrinkled his brow- he usually hated it when people called him Eds- his name was Eddie, thank you very much- but there was something in the way Richie said it that made him sort of like it.

“Yeah, yeah. Sure thing Eds. Hey, can I see what you drew?”

He suddenly felt very vulnerable and that shame crept up on him again, washing over him in waves. There was  _ no fucking way _ he was going to let this guy see the level of care he had taken in drawing him- he had half a mind to tear the pages out of his sketchbook the minute he sat in his car. 

He stammered, trying to come up with a better excuse than, “I didn’t draw anything”. Richie had watched him- for two hours. He’d see right through that bullshit.

“I’m actually not even that good and it’s super private so.”  _ Stupid, stupid, stupid. _

“Oh, I mean you can’t be that bad. Mr. D was totally telling me before I came in to watch out for you. He said you were ‘inspired’ actually. I’m pretty sure that’s the word he used, could’ve been ‘super fucking cute’, but maybe that’s just me talking.” Richie flashed him a toothy grin and dug his shoe in the gravel. Eddie could feel the heat rising to his face and thanked God that he didn’t park under a lamp post. The darkness of the parking lot hid his blush well enough, but his mind had gone radio silent. Eddie heard himself speaking before he could even register what he was saying.

“I’m cute? I mean- who made you? Fucking  Michelangelo ?”

The ground could have swallowed him at that very moment and Eddie would have thanked the universe for it. He shifted his bag and heard the tell-tale clink of his key ring.  _ Thank fuck. _

“Well Richie, it was great meeting you. Bye,” was all he had managed to squeak out before unlocking his door and speeding out of the parking lot. A quick glance in his rearview told him that Richie hadn’t moved from that spot yet. Eddie let himself get a few miles away before pulling off the quiet road. His head hit the steering wheel as the embarrassment sank in.  _ Michelangelo, really? _ An exasperated sigh later and he was back on the road to his shared apartment. He really hoped Stan was up this late, he usually went to bed early on weeknights, but Eddie could really use the rational mind of his best friend right now. His mind kept drifting back to the curly-headed boy he just left and wondered what had been going through his mind as he had driven away. He let out a panicked laugh as he pulled into his usual parking spot.  _ Were sexual awakenings supposed to be this hard? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> your comments and kudos are what drive me, pls spare me some if you have the time. your encouragement means the world- as does your criticism.  
tumblr: major-trash-whore


	3. Bird-Man Saves the Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie had calmed down, Stan always seemed to have had that effect around people- his reserve grounded Eddie and for that he was thankful, but the anxieties of the night flooded through him again. He dragged his too-tired body through the house to his room in the back and fell, face-down, onto his mattress. The loud groan of frustration muffled by the pillow was enough to spur him back up. What the fuck is wrong with me? He’s one guy who might not even like guys and I’m acting like a little bitch over it? I think the fuck not! Eddie Kaspbrak can at times be a rational man, but the aftershock of this evening’s revelation was a little more than he could handle. After a few more laps of energized pacing around his small bedroom and defeated sigh, he pulled out his sketchpad, the stark white of the canvas in front of him seemed to call out tauntingly. What are you waiting for Eddie?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this wasn't my best chapter to date, but I'm happy enough with it to post it. As always, I love you all.

To Stan’s credit, he had taken Eddie’s meltdown very well- all things considered. Eddie’s frantic pacing around the living room was enough to wake Stan’s sleeping girlfriend who, in turn, woke him up to calm his roommate down enough so that they could both go back to sleep. He pressed a light kiss to Patty’s temple and slipped out from beneath the covers, feet padding across the wooden floor to find Eddie. As he rubbed the last of the sleep from his eyes, he looked over at the green flashing numbers above the stove.  _ 9:23 _ . A Tuesday, he remembers, Eddie had just gotten home from class. He let out a light groan and stretched the muscles in his back and shoulders before setting out to make two cups of tea. With a steaming cup in Eddie’s hands, Stan gave him a pointed look.  _ What the hell is your deal?  _ Stanley Uris had always been an old soul trapped in the body of a young man, at times a little too serious, but he always had the best intentions and he really did care about the young man across from him. He could see the panic rising in Eddie’s chest.

“Stan, I think- I think I might be gay. Like I don’t know for sure and I don’t know what's going on, but there was a boy in class today and he modeled for us and I couldn’t stop staring at him and he was so- and I felt something. I think I felt something. And I’m so scared and I don’t know what to do- I mean you’ve met my mother. Stan what if I like boys- what if I-” the presence of Stan’s arms around him helped in some odd way. Stanley was by no means an affectionate person, he rarely even hugged Patty in public. But the warm comfort and genuine love that poured out of Stan moved Eddie to tears. 

As the choked sobs quieted and the rapid beating of Eddie’s heart slowed, Stan pulled away and kept him at arms’ length. “Eddie, I am going to need you to calm down and stay calm. You need to give yourself the space to be attracted to whomever you are attracted to and leave it at that. You know your mother, but I know  _ you _ . You aren’t a bad person and you aren’t  _ dirty _ ,” Stan punctuated the last word because he knew that that was what had gotten Eddie so riled up; he had always been so cognizant of health and personal safety risks- it was his Achilles' heel, but Stan needed to give Eddie that peace of mind. Eddie nodded slowly as he processed all of his feelings and the assurance that Stanley afforded him, the room quieting- save for the sound of the overhead fan. 

“Did you know that nearly a quarter of black swans will enter a homosexual relationship?” 

Eddie snorted and wiped his nose with the tissue that Stan was handing him, “Of course you know that.” 

Stan offered him a small smile in return, after a beat, and with a smirk, “So, he modeled for you?” 

A decorative pillow met the shoulder of Stan and Eddie turned beet-red whisper-screeching something about “not like that” and “oh my  _ God _ , Stan”. Stanley let out a dramatic sigh and placed a hand over his heart, “I remember the days when you used to ask me to strip down for you. So heartwarming to know you’ve found someone else willing to comply.” A second pillow soared through the air to his face and a quiet “fuck you, it was one time” met his ears. Placing the now-empty mugs in the sink to deal with in the morning, Stanley gave Eddie a parting smile and assured him that he loves him all the same. 

Slipping back under the sheets, Patty stirred and grumbled her displeasure at being woken up again. His usual demeanor of indifference melted around her and he was able to be all of these other wonderful things; he could be a selfless lover, he could be funny, he could let loose- all of these qualities she brought out in him. Simply put, he loved her. He felt a small pang in his heart for his friend- life hadn’t always been kind to the small boy from Derry and he deserved what Stan had with Patty. A small sigh fell from her sleeping form, clothed in one of Stan’s old chess team shirts from high school- the rise and fall of her back lulled Stan back to the moment. He pressed a small kiss to her shoulder and watched a smile push through her sleep- arms wrapped around her frame he sank back to sleep.

-

Eddie had calmed down, Stan always seemed to have had that effect around people- his reserve grounded Eddie and for that he was thankful, but the anxieties of the night flooded through him again. He dragged his too-tired body through the house to his room in the back and fell, face-down, onto his mattress. The loud groan of frustration muffled by the pillow was enough to spur him back up.  _ What the fuck is wrong with me? He’s one guy who might not even like guys and I’m acting like a little bitch over it? I think the  _ _ fuck _ _ not!  _ Eddie Kaspbrak can at times be a rational man, but the aftershock of this evening’s revelation was a little more than he could handle. After a few more laps of energized pacing around his small bedroom and defeated sigh, he pulled out his sketchpad, the stark white of the canvas in front of him seemed to call out tauntingly.  _ What are you waiting for Eddie? _

His hand reached out to stroke the cover of his sketchbook; he felt a sense of discomfort at the prospect of looking into Richie’s eyes again- even if it was just a drawing. Thumbing through the pages, nails bitten to the quick  _ (his anxiety had won that battle and the fear of what disgusting germs and bacteria live in nail beds was pushed out and away)  _ he reached the pages from tonight’s class. Eddie frowned at the face that met him- it was accurate, unbelievably so, but the eyes lacked the warmth and depth that Eddie had found there. Thinking back to their encounter in the parking lot, having been so close, Eddie could distinguish the flecks of amber or honey that danced in the low light. Richie’s lips had been chapped and shivering at the brisk air that wrapped around the memory, but the blood rushed beneath the thin membrane and gave a wonderful life and color to his mouth. 

Eddie lost himself in a daze, woken by the light buzz of his phone, and found his fingers to be tracing the outline of his own lips; he shivered at the contact. The phone on his bed let out another impatient buzz, seeming to say  _ I’m here! Don’t forget, I won’t! _ Shaking himself awake, he reached for it, the screen lit up.

**10:45**

**Mr. Dornan**

**iMessage**

He remembers vaguely giving his instructor his number, for critiquing purposes, but he had never actually reached out before and especially never at this time of night. Shrugging off the odd feeling he had, he opened the messages app; Eddie could feel the bile rising in his throat as he read:

**10:44** _ Good evening Edward, I apologize for my late message, but I wanted to make you aware as soon as possible that I have passed along your contact information to Richard. Our young model tonight expressed a great interest in your work and you know the importance of exposure. Hope all is well and I look forward to our class time on Thursday. Please plan on staying after to discuss the upcoming school year and your portfolio. _

Eddie must have re-read the text four times before his phone buzzed again, a notification popping up-  _ Unknown number iMessage.  _ Silently cursing his instructor and with shaky fingers, Eddie opened the new message:

**10:51** _Hey Eds, it’s Richie! Big D gave me your number and may I just say? The only art I saw tonight was your blushing face my dear._

Eddie threw his phone to the other side of the bed and shoved his face in the pillow nearest to him, letting a small scream into the fabric. He could feel that same blush rising-  _ who was this kid?  _ As he was catching his breath, willing himself to calm down, his phone let out more traitorous buzzes. Another groan slid from his mouth, but he reached for his phone all the same.

**10:52** _Too forward?_

**10:52** _I’m sorry_

**10:52** _I don’t want to freak you out_

**10:53** _But seriously, you’re a stunner_

**10:53** _Are you asleep Eds?_

**10:53** _That’s so cute. Early bird and all._

**10:53** _Hey Eds we should get coffee or something_

**10:53** _;)_

**10:54** _Sorry_

Eddie hadn’t even had the chance to respond yet and this young man, odd as he may be, had asked him to get coffee with him. _ Pretty fucking presumptuous if you ask me, _ but the idea still made his heart flutter a little. He didn’t want to get his hopes up, for all Eddie knew this Richie guy was just a big flirt and this all meant nothing.  _ Nothing, that’s all it is. _

**10:56** _ I’m not asleep, my name isn’t Eds, and I’m busy. Sorry. _

And he was sorry- for sounding like a huge dick and for his feelings for this boy he had only just met. Mostly, he felt sorry for himself, a horrible trait he tried desperately not to imbibe in, but here he was- sitting alone on his bed, filled with this abrasive turmoil that felt like hot sewage in his stomach, and feeling sorry for himself. He deserves it, he supposed. He can feel like the world is doling out an unfair hand, just for a little. And before the panic could reach through him and clutch at his fast-beating heart, before he could even go for his aspirator- his phone buzzed.

**10:58 ** _ Oh Eddie baby- wish I could take that as an excuse but you see. I haven’t even given you a date yet ;) _

_ Well shit.  _ Yeah, maybe Eddie jumped the bullet on his last message, but c’mon. What else was he supposed to say? Accepting this stranger’s invitation wasn’t on his to-do list tonight or any other night for that matter. 

**10:59** _I’m busy every night, sorry. _

The sting of palm meeting forehead was only part of what Eddie deserved for being  _ so fucking stupid.  _ He really should just accept, but he just figured out that he maybe liked guys for fuck’s sake- and now this Adonis-looking dumbass was trying to take him out? The universe doesn’t work like that-  _ no thank you _ .

**11:00** _If you’re sure Eddie-Spaghetti, then I’ll drop it for now. _

**11:00** _ The offer still stands though :)  _

**11:00** _ I’ll be at the center on Thursday for my class.  _

**11:00** _ If you wanna meet up after just to talk that could be cool too.  _

**11:01** _ I still really want to see your drawings. _

Eddie softened a little at the last message, even if the situation was a little more than he could handle emotionally- Richie did seem sort of genuine.

**11:02** _ I’ll think about it, goodnight Richie. _

**11:02** _ :) _

The message was innocuous enough and Eddie fell asleep contented despite the rest of his evening. Without intending to, he curled around his sketchbook, snoring softly into his sheets, fingers laid across the pages of Richie Tozier. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your comments and bookmarks encourage me, seriously. Thank you to everyone who has been following this story and my other fic as well. You're all amazing.  
tumblr @major-trash-hoe
> 
> Also can I just fucking scream for a second because I'm meeting James in T-minus two days and I might pee my pants.


	4. Average Boy Meets Quiet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day he and Stanley left Derry for good, he picked up his first sketchbook at some dollar store they stopped at for groceries and he hadn’t looked back since. Making art was an outlet for him- the best one he had ever had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cannot express my guilt well enough. I have been so stupid busy with school, work, and life that I have let my fins fall behind. This chapter is a super short one with the promise that as soon as I’ve finished the final (that I haven’t even started) that is due TOMORROW, I will give you new chapters of this and all of the other pieces I’ve promised you. I’m working on a second fix-it that is going to be even better than I Fucked Your Mom and its going to be [pause for dramatic effect] a one shot! I have been working so diligently on that piece and the Secret Santa piece I’ve been assigned. Both of which will be up in full by this time next month. This I promise to you all.
> 
> Please don’t hate me too much and enjoy this little snippet of content I managed to get out in the last hour. More will be coming soon! Thank you for your patience and everyone thank Florinda for chewing my ass out today at work, spurring me on to write SOMETHING for this fic.

Richie hadn’t sent any more messages that night, or that Wednesday, or even Thursday morning. Eddie wasn’t sure why but the fluttering in his chest hadn’t left since Richie stepped into his class two nights ago. “You’re being so stupid, Eddie,” he had spent the drive to the community center mumbling to himself, trying- desperately- to quell the anxiety he felt. By the time he had made it up the steps and faced the large, paned door Eddie still hadn’t seen Richie and resolved that he wouldn’t. “It’s probably some dumb joke, he didn’t mean any of it,” he whispered only to himself, shaking his head as he pushed his way through into the studio. 

Eddie came alive there, there was something about the smell of dried paint, or the neat rows of easels that allowed him to let his guard down. His mother never allowed him to paint, “too messy” she said. The day he and Stanley left Derry for good, he picked up his first sketchbook at some dollar store they stopped at for groceries and he hadn’t looked back since. Making art was an outlet for him- the best one he had ever had. Creating something out of nothing, being able to pull the ideas from your head and from your heart and show them to people- that physical proof was something he began to crave. He’s sure that in the beginning Stan thought he was crazy, filling book after book of doodles and sketches, things he saw on his way to the cafe he worked at, strangers he passed by on the streets. Eddie had happened upon Mr. Dornan’s class by accident. A student of his posted a flyer on the community bulletin board in the coffee shop and Eddie, much unlike himself, decided that he would go. Not knowing where he was going, or who he would meet, Eddie leaned into the experience with a fervor that intimidated him. The studio was a safe space for him and he found himself looking forward to each new class and each new exercise. Now, laid out before him were doors opening, doors that would let him learn everything there was to know about visual arts and gave him the space he needed to process and feel. He had Mr. Dornan to thank for that. 

The class went by relatively quickly, something that both depressed and excited Eddie. Once he got into a good rhythm, he never wanted to stop; but the thought of starting his new job at the university tomorrow left him bouncing in his seat. This put him one step closer to the life he wants for himself and Eddie couldn’t wait.

Their subject today was something Eddie hadn’t ever attempted before, much to Mr. Dornan’s surprise. His instructor had gifted them all pocket mirrors at the start of class with explicit instructions to draw the person they found looking back at them. Eddie never considered himself an especially handsome young man, but he knew some people found him attractive enough. It was a concept he never busied himself with, preferring to focus on the beauty he could capture in others and the mundane things people seemed to disregard. A crushed soda can, for example, was just a piece of trash, but the way light bounced off of aluminium and the crinkles in its form was something that was attractive to Eddie. There were details there that he could, if he set himself to it, replicate almost perfectly. That’s where he found beauty. The man staring back in the mirror furrowed his brows, Eddie had just about gotten down the curve in his nose when a sharp rap at the door drew his attention; a curly mop of hair peeked through the window and waved furiously at Eddie. A blush rose to his cheeks and he mouthed a silent “ _ go away _ ” to the boy outside. Richie gesticulated to the hallway around him, inviting Eddie to join him. He shook his head, gesturing to the easel in front of him, an invisible “I’m busy”. Richie nodded, hands in the air as if in defeat and stepped away from the studio. 

Eddie couldn’t bring himself to focus for the last thirty minutes of the class, finding his eyes drawn to the empty hallway. Before he could throw himself through the open door to find Richie, Mr. Dornan gently reminded him that he needed to speak with him about his course selection. The air thrummed as Eddie vibrated with the anticipation of being able to talk to Richie so soon. He was still undoubtedly intimidated by the concept of attraction, especially to the same sex, but there was something about Richie that piqued a morbid curiousity that overwhelmed the anxiety. Mr. Dornan, sensing this, sighed and sent Eddie home with the promise of having a serious conversation after the next lesson.

With a quick”thank you” thrown over his shoulder, Eddie burst through the door and was met with an empty hallway. The silence of the closing building rang in his ears and if breaking hearts could make a sound- his would be like thunder. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I appreciate your comments and feedback, they honestly give me the energy to make content for you all. Please, if you have just a minute, share your thoughts with me.
> 
> tumblr @hader-hoe  
Insta @hader_ade

**Author's Note:**

> I also have a tumblr, please reach out and give me shit for my writing and choice of reblogs. @major-trash-hoe
> 
> I love you all.


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